


Found Family

by Ashera_Skyla, PipersLostChild



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Look this is a shameless self-insert fic, Somehow its still serious though, That is all, anyway, not sure how we managed to accomplish that
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:28:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23384542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ashera_Skyla/pseuds/Ashera_Skyla, https://archiveofourown.org/users/PipersLostChild/pseuds/PipersLostChild
Summary: During a case in Great Falls Montana, Spencer Reid is pulled into the orbit of two girls who refuse to let him go. Over the course of time bonds are built and created, with Aaron Hotchner being pulled in after a tragic event leaves him with an empty home and alot of physical and mental scars. This isn't a story about the blood that was spilt, this is a story of how they both healed with the help of others.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 13





	1. Spencer Gets Dragged Into A Found Family (Not That He's Complaining)

**Author's Note:**

> Without the lovely help of Ashera_Skyla, this fic would have never happened. She is the one who have bounced ideas off of, an helped make this chapter presentable to the outer world. This is something born of many a long conversation, and even more laughter.  
> Of course, on a less serious note, this fic isn't all that serious (yes Ashera, I got the reference.), but it is fun, and I am enjoying writing it, and Ashera is definitely enjoying hearing about it.

"Friendship is born at that moment when one person says to another: 'What! You too? I thought I was the only one." - C.S. Lewis

Doctor Spencer Reid stood in the small office set aside in the Great Falls Police Department for this case, staring at the map on the board in front of him. A series of brutal murders had called the BAU out to Montana, but the killings were looking more and more like they were opportunistic than planned. Spencer couldn’t find a pattern yet. His stomach rumbles loudly, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since dinner the day before, and it was almost noon. He set down the marker in his hand and put on his coat. There was a bakery a few blocks over that was supposed to be good. 

As he was walking out of the brick building, he was stopped by one of the detectives assigned to the case. “Do you have a lead in the case?” Detective Milner asked. Spencer looked away from him, feeling a little guilty. “No. I just haven’t eaten today and it’s affecting my thinking. I heard that there was a bakery two block away that was really good. JJ’s Bakery?” He replied, trying not to let his frustration show.

“JJ’s? Yeah it’s really good. Just recently renamed, before that it was Baker Bobs before he went out of business. Still tastes the same, though.” Spencer nodded his acknowledgment, and left the conversation there. 

A few minutes later had Spencer walking through the door of JJ’s bakery, and looking around at the decor. It looked like a large Italian style bakery, with pillars and renaissance inspired decorations, but the art was all Montanan, featuring Montana landscapes and wildlife. The bakery had a large line already, so he stepped into line, absently noticing that it was already almost at the door. The noise inside the bakery was quite loud, but contained, and he wondered if this was normal for this time of day. The quiet chime of the door behind him heralded the presence of someone new, and the quiet bickering he heard behind told him it was two young women. Who, now that their voices were raised as they got into the argument, were arguing about the newest marvel movie. Curious, Spencer turns briefly to get a view of the squabbling pair before turning to the front of the line again. 

“Look, I'm just saying, there is no way Steve Rodgers doesn't have PTSD. I'm sorry, but no. So what I want to see is Steve getting therapy for his issues, of the least that he watched his best friend literally fall to his death in front of him, and that's during the whole World War II, aka one of the most horrific wars of all time. If that man doesn't have PTSD, I'll eat my foot,” the girl with a red pixie cut behind him was saying. Her hair had blonde roots, showing the dyed nature, and her hands were gesturing wildly. 

“Well duh, I don’t think anyone who fought came out unscathed, but what I want to see is what life in the tower will be like” The other girl started, with Pixie cutting her off. “Clint is in the vents.”

“Well, yeah. But I also want to see how Tony’s PTSD is addressed. I mean he almost died, he’s going to at least have nightmares about it, and I want to see that getting addressed. That man has so many issues.” Spencer could almost taste the sarcasm coming from the second girl.

“Sam, Sam, Sam.” The other girl, with long purple to blue ombre hair, now named Sam, was hit in the arm for every iteration of her name. 

“Dar, Dar, Dar.”She replied. 

“Steve and Tony having the same therapist.”

“I would read that fic.” 

“That poor therapist. I can just imagine Clint dropping into the middle of a session and just going, ‘Whoops, wrong room.’”

And hearing that Spencer can’t help but to add his own thoughts to the conversation going on behind him. He turns around again and cuts into the conversation. “But if Clint was always in the vents, wouldn't he know the room he was dropping into?”

Dar and Sam both look at him, and Dar responds immediately.“Of course, but Clint is also a mess of frankly epic proportions, so I would not be surprised if he drops into the wrong room multiple times. But during the therapy session that was definitely on purpose, but he's not going to admit that, ever.” 

Sam jumps onto that train of thought. “Yeah Clint is a mess, he is probably trying to make sure that everything is good. He also probably did accidently drop in a few times, which is in character.”

“Again Clint is a mess, and it shows. Also, he’s a carnie, and I love that. Wait, you know what I’m disappointed in?” Dar jumps off of Sam’s train of thought, jittering slightly.

“The fact that Clint isn't deaf in the movie?” Sam said sardonically, clearly having heard this before.

“Yeah! It’s so disappointing. I mean come on, imagine the fun you could have with that. Clint looking directly into the camera and taking out his hearing aids, because he’s done dealing with the others.” Dar started gesturing again, arms moving as she pointed at Spencer, clearly wanting him to continue 

Spencer, barely keeping up with the back and forth of the two, responded. ‘If he is deaf, wouldn't he know sign language?”

Sam nodded her approval “Yep. Him and Natasha could have entire conversations in sign language.” 

Dar hit Sam, this seemed to be a common thing. “Excuse you, eyebrow conversations. He would teach the rest of the team sign language, but him and Nat would be well past the point of needing words. For shame.” 

Sam tilted her head to the side, green eyes glinting with thought “True. Steve would already be learning, because that’s just the type of person he was.” 

Spencer thought about it for a second before saying. “He was deaf in one ear before the Serum, so I think he would already know sign language.” 

“Ooh, that's a good point, I like that. I’m keeping that head canon.” Dar replied, looking up at the ceiling, as if to conserve something to memory.

‘Head canon?’ Spencer thought but didn’t ask, figuring it was something between the two of them. 

“Wait,” Sam said suddenly. “Would Steve’s sign language be different than Clint’s?” 

“It would have to be. And that would add comedic value to the whole thing.” Dar answered quickly.

“The 1920’s to 1940’s had different sign language but not too drastically different sign language. Different words meant different things than they do know, however it was still the same language.” Spencer cut himself off, feeling himself going into a long winded rant that his companions probably didn’t want to hear. Dar and Sam both looked thoughtful.

Sam spoke up slowly, mulling her thought’s over. “So it’s like different slang, rather than completely different syntax.” Sam started. 

“Well that makes sense. I mean it’s the same with English now versus then. We have different slang but it’s still the same language. So It would make sense that the sign would be the same way. It’s still a language and that change is meaning just means that the language is still alive. It’s like the difference between Latin and Italian. Latin hasn’t changed at all, and is stuck at a moment in time, whereas Italian isn’t. It’s constantly changing and evolving, like the people who speak it.” 

“Do you speak any other languages?” Sam asked once Dar was done speaking, trying to bring Spencer into the conversation after seeing the man physically pull back from the two. 

“Yes. I speak Russian, Latin, and am learning Arabic right now. Russian is surprisingly similar to English, as long as you ignore the different alphabet.” Spencer replied, shocked at the jump in conversation. 

“Yeah I’ve been slowly learning Russian, too. It is really similar in a lot of ways. Other than the lack of “the’s” which I am so happy about,” Dar said, keeping up with his train of thought surprisingly well. “Wait we never asked your name!” Dar exclaimed, smacking her forehead. “We’re idiots. Rude, rude idiots. Rude and not ginger.” 

“Careful,” Sam elbowed Dar. “Your Ten is showing.” 

Dar elbowed back. “Shut up, Bitch.” 

“Jerk.” 

Spencer replied to the earlier question, “I’m Spencer Reid, you watch Doctor Who?” 

Dar perked up, “Of course! I love that show. I’m behind a season, yay college, but I’ll catch up. Have you watched the old series? I started but then we got rid of Hulu so I couldn’t watch it anymore. I got to the fourth doctor.” 

“I grew up watching it when I could, I’m currently knitting the Fourth Doctor's scarf.” 

Sam cut in. “I’m not as into it as Dar, but I keep up with it as best I can. I prefer Supernatural, which,” Sam turned to Dar, “did you read the fic I sent you?”

Dar looks up to the ceiling, a furrow in her brow. “Which one was that?” 

“The one where Dean’s imaginary friend is Death.” 

“Oh my gods yes! It was so good! But still, really sad, somehow.” 

“Right!?” 

“Oh shit! Spencer you're almost up to order. Hey, you wanna sit with us? If we can find room.” Dar asked quickly, turning and looking at him.

“I would enjoy that.” He replied, stepping up to order. He ended up spending the next hour in deep conversation with the two girls, probably the strangest people he’d met yet, in the small alcove with a window looking out onto the street. The trio spent the time jumping from one outrageous topic to the next, and for the first time in a while Spencer was actually having a good time, his darker thoughts buried behind the laughter of the two girls. 

The laughter cut off with the buzz of Spencer’s phone, the poor flip phone straining to get its owner’s attention. “Might want to get that,” Sam said, nodding down at his phone. Spencer frowned and picked up the phone, flipping it open and answering it. “Hey Hotch.” 

“Where are you, Reid?” Hotch asked quickly, the girls in the booth barely able to pick up the voice. 

“I was getting lunch, why?” Spencer asked. 

“I need you back here now.” 

“OK. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Spencer replied, frowning at the girls opposite to him 

“Boss?” asked Dar. Spencer nodded.

“Okay. And Spencer?” Hotch said quietly.

“Yeah?” 

“Tell us where you’re going next time.” Hotch hung up the phone before he could reply.

Spencer winced at the girls. “Oops.” 

Sam smiled at the man, “Don’t worry about it, just tell him that you got distracted talking to the locals, that might help you out a bit.” Dar nodded along at her side.

“Here give me your phone,” Dar said as he was getting up to leave. Not really knowing why, Spencer handed her the old device, watching her wince as she grabbed it. “Man, you gotta get a better phone,” She said as she typed something into it. 

“It works for me.” 

“Does it though? Does it really? Where do all the memes go?” snarked Sam in reply, a smile teasing the corners of her mouth. Dar cut in, “I put my number in,” she said as she handed the phone to Sam. “Here, put yours in, then we gotta go.” 

Sam grabbed the phone. “Yeesh, this reminds me of my old phone.” She muttered under her breath, but put her number in none the less. “What’s the plan, Stan?” She asked Dar. 

“I gotta drop off some books at the library, then you wanted to go to Michael’s for something. Our movie is in about two hours.” 

“Want me to follow you or meet you at Market Place?”

“Just meet me there, I know what your car looks like”

“Ah. Ok.” Sam handed Spencer back his phone. “Text us so we have your number. We’ll start a group chat. Or we can meet up again if you’re in town for a bit” She stated. “Talk to you later.” 

“Talk to you later,” he replied and hurried out of the door, for once looking forward to the texting that was sure to follow. Forgetting to ask how the two knew he was from out of town. 


	2. Aaron has an emotional break down, hell they all have an emotional breakdown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys this chapter gets a little rough when it comes to the hurt side of the tags, but there is quite a bit of comfort

People become attached to their burdens sometimes more than the burdens are attached to them.

– George Bernard Shaw

Spencer stared up at Hotch’s office, and the man working within. It was almost eleven o’clock at night, and still he worked, despite the stab wounds that had to be painful for him. Spencer thought back to the actions and behavior Hotch had displayed over the course of the case, Hotch’s first case back, and he made a decision. Spencer grabbed his crutches and stood up, pushing his chair back in with one of his crutches. He resolutely made his way to the stairs (the current bane of his existence), and slowly hobbled his way up them. He made it to Hotch’s office and leaned on the door jamb for support, and cleared his throat.

“Hey, Hotch?” Spencer asked once he had his attention. “I was wondering if I could catch a ride home with you. None of the others are done, but I know you’re supposed to be on limited duty, and trying to flag a cab at this time of night is a lesson in futility.” When had he gotten so good at lying? Oh, yeah, dilaudid.

“What about the subway?” Hotch asked, pulling him out of his musings.

“The trains at night are terrifying, and I promised my friends I would never do that again, even though I know how to defend myself.”

Hotch nodded but didn’t move to stand, continuing to work on the file before him. Well, time to pull out the big guns. Spencer leaned more on the door jamb, and let the pain of his knee show on his face, letting his eyes go wide and pleading. “Please?” he pleaded, making himself look as miserable and young as he could. The memory of a conversation with two girls came across his mind, and he had to work to make sure nothing showed on his face.

Hotch looked up at him from across his desk, and something softened in his face, his shoulders relaxing minutely. “Okay. I’ll drive you home. Try not to push yourself too hard, okay? We need you.” Hotch said in a soft voice, closing the file in front of him and tidying up his desk for tomorrow.

“Thank you.” Spencer quietly replied, slumping into the door jamb even more. He really was in pain, and Hotch’s personal vehicle was a lot nicer than either Morgan or Emily’s. And although Rossi’s was nice, it was too low to the ground for comfort, making it hard to get in and out of with crutches. Hotch’s really was the perfect vehicle for a leg injury. “I’ll meet you by the elevators.” Spencer said as Hotch got ready to leave. He put his weight on his crutches, and slowly hobbled down the stairs once more. Spencer tidied up his own desk, and pulled his messenger bag across his body, adjusting it so the bag itself laid on his back. He got to the elevators just as Hotch was walking down the stairs, slower than he usually does. Hotch reached him just as the elevator doors opened, inviting Spencer in first and pushing the button for the garage.

Both Aaron and Reid slumped against the railings of the elevator, relishing in the released pressure on their injuries. Aaron was exhausted, if he was perfectly honest with himself, which he tried to be. It had been a long case, and Aaron’s emotions were highly volatile, which only made him more frustrated. He knew he had been taking his emotions out on his team and the others around him, but he was in too much pain from both the stab wounds and emotional toil of this case. It had been too close for comfort, and the fact that he was exhausted from lack of sleep didn’t help any. He just wanted to go home. But all that was left of home was an apartment that was filled with ghosts and pain. He just wanted someplace safe, But he didn’t know where that was. Rossi’s place was filled with just as many ghosts, and hotel rooms just kept him on edge because the only time he slept in one these days was for cases.

Aaron closed his eyes at some point during the ride, and had to drag them open once the elevator stopped. He left the elevator first, knowing that Reid didn’t know where he had parked, the young man having taken a cab this morning. The sound of crutches behind him made him tense up, guilt pulling his shoulders inward. Reid never would have been in crutches had Foyet not gotten the drop on him.

The silent car ride only gave him more time to wallow in his self-loathing. Recriminations about what he could have done better. He shouldn’t have yelled at his team, it’s not their fault he’s in pain. He should have done a better job of reigning that in, of controlling his responses. He’s an idiot for not noticing the ticks, it was so obvious. A person got killed because he didn’t notice something. He’s such a failure. He’s always a failure. People seem to leave him all the time, or they die because of him. How can he expect the team to stay? Rossi only came back because he had unfinished business. He’ll probably leave like Gideon soon. Everyone leaves. Haley was right to leave; she would’ve been hurt had she been there for this. And he was never there for her, he couldn’t put her first. How could he? People were dying out there, and he might be able to stop them, save a few lives. There was no way to win. No one wants to be placed second in their lover’s life. To sit back and do nothing would destroy him; had destroyed him. To not have someone there waiting who he could talk to was also destroying him. Either way he loses. At least this way he saves a few lives in the process.

But does he really? This job will never end, there will always be evil in the world. People do truly heinous actions all the time. There are so many murderers and rapists and the like out there that have never been caught. How many died without anyone ever knowing that they had killed so many lives. Aaron saw the road in front of him, fighting a futile fight until he died. He was one man, how much could he do?

“Turn right here.”

Reid’s voice drew him out of his thoughts. They were almost at Reid’s apartment complex, but… “I thought I was supposed to take a left?” He asked.

“I moved in with some friends, so I got a new apartment. It’s a three bedroom, but Sam and Dar share a room, in case anyone needs the other room. We just finished moving in when I was shot. It was lucky, this new one has an elevator that’s actually reliable.”

Aaron nodded, and turned when Reid told him to. They stopped in a parking lot, but Reid didn’t get out. Finally he sighed and looked at Aaron. “I, uh, wasn’t exactly truthful when I got you to drive me. Well I had ulterior motives. Look, I want you to stay with us tonight.” He said quickly, as if the faster he got the words out, the more likely Aaron was to agree. “Why? I’m…” Reid cut him off.

“You’re not fine, Hotch. And that’s okay, I don’t expect you to be. I just don’t want you staying in the same place you almost died in. And, I know you trust me, at least subconsciously, to keep you safe. Please. Even if it’s just for one night. Stay in a place that holds no memories for you, let your body rest, and your mind heal, just a little bit. You’re not alone Hotch. Please, let me help.”

Aaron didn’t have the energy to argue with that. He hasn’t slept in weeks, even in the hospital. Nightmares kept him awake, and when he got to the apartment it only got worse. He was tired. So tired. “Okay.” He said. “Okay.”  
Spencer nodded. He led the way into the building and to the elevators, and a painful ride up to the third floor dropped them off fairly quickly to the floor Spencer lived on. He crutched his way to the apartment, and knocked hard. “Let me in! I have no hands!” Hotch looked confused by his change of speech patterns, but really, he didn’t care. Home sweet home.

“Get the door you jerk!” Sam called from somewhere in the apartment.

“Ugh fine.” Dar replied, jerking open the door and standing to the side. “You’re lucky I like you. By the way, muting the group chat? Not cool. Not cool at all.” She said to Spencer.

“Your noodles are boiling over!” Sam yelled from the kitchen.

“Shit!” Dar sprinted away, sliding in socks on the wood floor. Spencer laughed, crutching into the apartment. He pulled off his coat, and set his bag down by the door, before sitting on the bench under the coat rack to take off his shoes.

“So that was Dar, she should be heading back pretty quick to actually introduce herself. Sam is in the kitchen, she’ll come with, she has long blue hair. Or at least it was yesterday, I can’t remember when her appointment is to re-dye her hair. It might have been today.” Spencer said once he was done.

“Spence! Come on man, muting the group chat? Not cool,” A second girl walked into the room, hair blue just as Spencer had described. She too wore socks on the hardwood floor but unlike Dar hers were mismatching. “We were worried, and you know what happens when we worry.” 

Her tone was sarcastic, but her face held the concern Aaron had only seen from the BAU team. Arms crossed like a mother scolding a child. She came across as someone who trusted hard and handled betrayal even worse. The clatter of crutches from behind him pulled Aaron from his thoughts as his younger friend moved towards the girl and wrapped her in a half hug, “I know, but when you two are making my phone constantly go off in meetings I really don’t have a choice. Besides I brought you a present.” 

The two turned to face the man looming in the doorway, the shadows around him seeming to seep into his skin even with the light that was right above him. “Well fuck,” Sam pulled her self from under Spencer’s arm and headed towards Aaron sticking her hand out to greet the man, “Hey I’m Samantha, resident mom over the other two disasters that live here, and you’ve already met Dar, she’s the cook here, and you already know Spencer, thanks for giving him a ride home.” 

Her smile was wide as she held out her hand for Aaron to take, ignoring the slight flinch the man gave. “Aaron. Hotchner” Gripping her hand Aaron gave it a firm shake, letting go quickly. 

The woman across from him just smiled and turned, grabbing Spencer’s arm with the movement. “Come on in, food’s about to be ready and you won’t want to miss it” 

“She’s right, if you don’t get some now she’ll just eat it all in the morning, and Dar’s food is the best in this section of town.” Spencer was grinning widely as he was dragged to the kitchen doorway, the two smiling at some inside joke that made the blue haired girl laugh. 

“I’d be offended if it wasn’t true.”

“I really should be going, I have food waiting for me at home.” Aaron started inching towards the door, getting ready to book it once it was shut behind him. How could he invade this place, these people obviously had a system going on, who was he to interrupt it? He was a mess, he didn’t deserve the care they were willing to show, he didn’t deserve kind-- A gentle hand settled on his arm, startling Aaron out of his thoughts. 

“Come on, one meal isn’t going to hurt you, and Dar and I are used to people just randomly dropping in. That’s basically how we lived before we moved here together,” Sam pulled the man towards the kitchen, her hold gentle but firm on Aaron’s arm. “Besides, Dar cooks enough to feed a small country, if anything you’re doing us a favor by staying.”

Aaron followed the pair silently, not fighting the hold on his arm. Stomach growling at the thought of real food, being tempted further by the smell coming from the kitchen. Aaron’s arm was released as the trio walked into the kitchen, Sam letting it drop by his side as she went to stand behind Dar at the stove. Sam wrapped her arms around the shorter woman and leaned her head on her shoulder, facing towards her to whisper something softly in the cook’s ear. 

Spencer had taken over where Sam had left off and led his apathetic boss towards the table centered in the room, gently forcing him to sit down. There was already a plate set before him, and the other spots at the table. “You told them I was coming didn’t you?” He asked. 

“He did!” Yelled Dar and Sam from the kitchen, voices intertwining as the pair answered.

Spencer rubbed the back of his head sheepishly, “Well yeah, I wasn’t going to have you drive out here and then get nothing from it. Besides, Sam wasn’t kidding when she said Dar cooks a lot.” 

“Shut up! I come from an Italian Irish family. I don’t know how to cook for less than five,” said cook snipped as she waltzed into the dining area with a pot steaming with noodles, Sam trailing behind her with a basket of fresh bread, the smell of both warming the room around them. Both foods were set on the table, and the sight of spaghetti, clearly homemade, surprised him. The bread was uncut, and looked fresh baked as well. 

Sam and Dar sat in their respective spots and started doling out the meal, both making sure that Aaron got some of everything that was being served. Spencer received the same treatment, grinning all the while. Food dished out the small family, for that’s how they acted, the meal moved forward with controlled chaos. Aaron looked at his own plate, wondering why the girls cared so much when he had just met them. Picking up his fork he took a bite, and nearly moaned out loud at the explosion of flavors on his tongue, not expecting the taste of the simple meal.

“Told ya, Dar’s food is the best,” Spencer was laughing quietly in his seat, enjoying his own meal. The two girls across the table laughed. While Dar scrubbed a hand across her hair. 

“Mom’s is better, but then isn’t that always how a mom’s food is?” 

“I still make the better Death cookies,” snarked Sam, gently teasing Dar and elbowing  
her in the side. “Dar can never get the ratio right.”

The two continued on like this for the duration of the meal, trying to pull Aaron into conversations, but respecting the distance he was trying to keep at the moment. Food was passed around as seconds were taken, guaranteeing that everyone went to bed with a full belly. Spencer and Sam cleaned up the plates and silverware, and went to see the mess made in the kitchen by Dar. 

“There’s still a full pot of spaghetti sauce here!” Sam called from the kitchen. “What do you want to do with it?”

Dar turned from picking up the place settings, and called back. “Stick it in some containers and freeze it! That way when we’re busy we don’t have to worry about cooking.”

She then turned to Aaron and smiled gently, before cutting off a piece of the bread and handing it to him. “Here, you need to eat more. You’re too skinny.” 

“Never thought I’d be taken care of by someone younger than me.Three times tonight,” Aaron gingerly took the bread from Dar’s hand, “Thank you.”

“Don’t worry about it, with the absolute mess that we create we’ve all gained a little nitch of care for the others. And I’m punk. We take care of others.” Dar was grinning as she spoke, “I just so happen to be the food mom, because as much as Sam and Spencer eat, they forget to do so frequently.”

“Spencer I understand, he’s always thinking about something, But why would Sam forget? She seems like she’s got a pretty even head on her shoulders.”

“That’s not my story to tell.” Dar said quietly. “I know Spencer’s history with food. And I know mine. But I don’t give away things told in confidence.”

“You care about them, more than just friends?”

“I love them like they’re my siblings. Sam has been practically my sister since I was fourteen. Spencer’s been with us for a year, but he’s starving for true friends. And I’ve always wanted an older brother.” She smiled lightly down at the floor, eyes far away. “You know, I’m not close to my birth family, not anymore. But then, family doesn’t end in blood, does it? They’re my family, I’ve claimed them as my own.” Here a conspiring look entered her face. “And to be frank, you’re pretty close to being adopted as well.” 

“Excuse me?” Aaron sat up straight in his chair, shocked at what the young girl had said.

“You remind me of me, back when me and Sam first met. And, you also look like you need a family. I like you, and so does Sam. We have a tendency to claim people we like quickly, and we don’t trust people easy.” She sighed. “All of us have stories to tell, and I’m always here if you want someone to listen.” 

Aaron stood abruptly from the table, pushing the chair back harshly. “Sorry, where’s your bathroom?” He asked quickly, trying to tap down on the emotions that statement pushed up in him. His throat felt tight, like he had swallowed a golf ball. 

Dar looked worried, but didn’t comment. “If you go through that door there, it’s the third door on the left down the hall. Living room is the first thing you see, then the hallway. Just ask if you need anything,” She replied, pointing to the door he came though earlier. 

The man quickly moved with the directions given to him, hurrying to the bathroom and shutting the door behind him, missing Sam coming to stand next to Dar at the table. “We’re adopting him aren’t we?”

“Yeah.”

“How bad?”

“Me in eighth grade bad. He’s hurting so much. But he’s always had to be strong for everyone else, and he doesn’t know how to ask for help. So he’s screaming quietly inside his own mind as he puts armor around his heart.“

“Well fuck, you and I are going to have our work cut out for us aren’t we? This can’t go on for too much longer before he breaks, and when he does it’s probably going to shatter him.”

“He’s falling apart in the bathroom right now as recriminations run through his head for letting someone even help him. And he’s begging someone to notice, but isn’t holding out hope that they will.” Dar sighed again. “Fuck it really is me all over again. Just, let me talk to him, okay?”

“Alright, I’ll get the blankets, and Spencer, set up for movie night, call if you need reinforcements, cause no one knows you like me,” sighed Sam, fingers running through her hair to relieve the stress cropping up.

“Yeah. Fuck this is going to suck. Don’t wait up this will take awhile. You can start without us. I’ll text when we’re done so you can cue up a disney movie,” She shook her head. “I’m going to end up crying tonight.” She said as she walked out of the dining room. 

“You know where to find us when we’re done, and wake me up if you need to pull me into the room,” Sam called after her, worry tainting her voice. 

Sam walked into the living room where Spencer was sitting on the couch with ice on his leg. “Everything okay?”

“No, but Dar’s going to fix it, or at least help some. And I’m here as back up when your boss decides to put on the mask again.” 

Dar walked quietly down the hall, and stopped at the closed bathroom door. Looking at the light from under the doorway, she could tell that Aaron was sitting against it. She knocked softly, not really expecting him to answer, but letting him know that someone was there anyways.

“You don’t have to come out.” Dar said head against the door. “But I’m going to talk from out here, okay?” She turned around and sat against the door as well, leaning her head back to look at the ceiling. How many times had she been on the opposite side of the door? Too many times, but she had always been alone. Well, Aaron won’t be. 

“I grew up in a conservative Christian household, not that they said that. I never went to church with my parents, but they sent me to a catholic school. I was raised Catholic, like both my grandparents and my great grandparents. I prayed every day, I spoke to God like he was my best friend.” Her throat felt tight. 

“Here’s the thing about my parents, they kept me isolated from everyone around me. I didn’t have friends, I wasn’t allowed to interact with anyone but who my parents said. I was a lonely child, only really able to talk to adults.”

“My dad was a stay at home dad. But he was an old school parent, which meant that his rules were my rules. My grades were to be kept above a C, no matter what. I brought home my first F in first grade. I remember I handed him my report card after I got out of class, so excited. He handed it back to me, and told me to read them aloud. So I did, I read out my A’s in math and reading and English. I read out my B in art and science. Then I got to the bottom of the list. Religion. I remember my heart stopped in my chest, and this feeling of dread filled me. Dad asked what the last grade was, impatient. “F.” I said in as quiet of a voice as I could. He asked me to repeat myself, so I did. He told me we would discuss that at home. He never turned the radio back on. The drive back was completely silent.

“When we got home he slammed the door to the truck, and told me to get inside the house. I was shaking so bad. He read out what the teacher had said right there in the kitchen, with me sitting in those wooden chairs. He grabbed my hair and pulled, and said to me that I either learn to turn my assignments in on time, or I lose my tv privileges. I just nodded my head as best I was able. Once it was over I went to my room and cried.

“Eventually I learned to joke about it. I never got beat, but I got yelled at, I got my hair pulled and my ear tugged. I was terrified of my dad. I’m nineteen and I still am. I can’t slam doors anymore, when I was eight? Nine? Me and dad had an argument over me not wanting to take a shower that night. It was late and I just wanted to go to bed. I got mad, and I had read about how slamming doors could make you feel better, as an outlet for anger. I slammed the door to my room. Dad yanked open the door and grabbed my hair and told me to never slam a door in his house again. I haven’t slammed a door since.

“I’m not telling you this because I want you to be mad, or anything like that. I’m telling you because you remind me of when I was in the middle of it, and I knew it was wrong, but I had no way out. I’m telling you so that you know that I understand. And I want to listen. Please. Talk to me.” 

Aaron sat with his head against his hands, tears tracking over his cheeks. He nodded slowly, and started talking. “There was this case, about a year ago. The Boston Reaper. He was stabbing people in the Boston area, he had gone underground for years because he made a deal with the lead detective on the case that as long as the detective didn’t search for him, he would stop killing. When the detective died, he made the same offer to me. We got him, but he escaped custody and disappeared. Three weeks ago he showed up in my apartment after a gruesome case in Canada. He stabbed me nine times, then drove me to an ER and used credentials he had taken from one of my team members during the course of the Reaper case. He threatened my family, so I had them put into protective custody until we caught him. But. In ten years, what is my son going to remember about me?” His voice caught in his chest, waiting for the same platitudes the team gave him. They would catch him. But when?

“He’s going to remember what you smelled like,” Dar said suddenly “and that your voice was the most comforting sound he knew. And he’s going to know that you’re doing everything you can to protect him, and bring him home,” she answered his question confidently. 

“You think so?” He asked as he wiped tears out of his eyes. 

“I know so.” Dar replied. “Now come on, we’ve got Disney movies queued up and I really need some cuddles right now.” She stood up with a groan of complaint, and a few popping joints. He stood up as well, dusting off his pants and moving to the mirror. He looked at his reflection, thankful that he didn’t get red eyes after he cried. As he looked in the mirror, he pulled off the suit jacket, and undid his tie. He splashed his face with water, and dried his hands off after his face. Dar was waiting when he opened the door. “I figured you would want to know where you’re staying.” She said quietly. “Mine and Sam’s room is the one right next to the bathroom, here.” She pointed at the door to the right of him. Your’s is the one ahead of it. Spencer’s room is over by the kitchen, it’s pretty easy to find. You can put your stuff in your room and join us when you’re ready.” She turned and pointed at him. “But don’t take too long, I won’t wait if it’s Mulan.” She walked down the hallway and turned to disappear into the living room. 

Aaron turned to look at the door in front of him, a line from what Dar had said to him running through his head. Your room. His. They opened their home to him, and expected nothing in return, except to watch a movie with them. A small smile slipped into his face, awed at what Spencer had dragged him into, and opened the door to his room, stepping inside. 

Dar walked into the living room, and curled up on the couch next to Sam, eyes still burning from the tears of her own story, and listening to Aaron’s. “Oh, babe. I’m sorry.” Sam said and pulled her closer, arms gripping her friend in a hold nothing would break.

“Not your fault. Just old wounds.”

“How is he?” 

“Hurting. He’s hurting so bad. But, I think I helped. At least a little. Right now he’s in his bedroom, pulling himself together.” Dar said quietly even as she wiped away tears. 

“His bedroom?” 

“I can’t send him back to that apartment. I can’t. There’s so much pain there, and it’ll only get worse if he stays there. And I don’t think he has anywhere else to go. He’s lost so much. He’ll need help. Who better than those of us who’ve been there, and got out?” Dar said as she looked at the tv absently. 

“Okay. Hey, I love you.”

“Love you too, bitch.”

“Jerk.” 

Aaron wandered into the room a little while later, taking in the scene in front of him. The opening credits of Mulan was playing on the TV, and Sam and Dar were cuddling on the couch, clearly taking comfort from each other. Spencer sat on a second hand lazy boy that had a frankly hideous pattern on it. There was another couch clear, but there was also room on the couch Sam and Dar were on. He sat on the later, not wanting to be alone right now. Dar looked down at him from where her head was pillowed on Sam’s chest. “Glad you joined us.” 

Sam smiled at the man, nodding towards the comforter that was over the back of the couch, pulling the one wrapped around Dar and her up further and settling into the couch more. And on the screen, a torch lit a brazier, warning China of danger. 

“You got people in your corner Aaron, even in the strangest corner you’ll ever know.”

“Excuse you, I’m not that strange.” Dar mumbled from under the cocoon of blankets. 

“You’re a practicing witch. Yes you are.” 

“Normal is an insult in this house, weird is a praise and the sass can only rise,” Spencer piped up from his recliner. 

“I forgot. He gets philosophical when in pain,” Dar groaned. 

The sound of light bickering from the three lulled Aaron into a relaxed stupor as Mulan fought to save China.


End file.
